Take All That I Have
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: An alternate look at season 5. Mark and Lexie, from the beginning, with a few twists and turns. Set to Never Gonna Leave This Bed by Maroon 5. One-shot.


Rating: M, for a few suggestive scenes. Nothing too detailed.

Inspiration: _Never Gonna Leave This Bed _by Maroon 5. (Which I just bought three days ago and subsequently became _obsessed _with.)

Author's Note: This is an alternate look at season 5. Please enjoy and leave me with your thoughts below :)

_**.**_

_**You push me**_

_**I don't have the strength to**_

_**Resist or control you**_

_**So take me down,**_

_**Take me down**_

_**.**_

"Oh_._ _Oh_, please. _Please…"_

She's never been one to beg. She's prided herself on that fact, on that defining feature.

Lexie Grey does not, under any circumstance, beg. For any thing, at any time. She just does _not_. She has fought for everything she has in life—an education, a job, a family. She didn't beg for good grades, she didn't beg for college acceptance or admittance into Harvard's prestigious medical school, nor for her internship at Seattle Grace. Those things weren't exactly handed to her on a silver platter, either, but that was the point. She _worked _for what she wanted. She never took the easy way out. She never lowered herself by begging. Never.

"Please, please, _please…_"

Lexie Grey _never_ begged… That is, until now. Until him.

"Mark, _please_…"

And she had done _so much _begging tonight. If she had any self-respect left, her face would be permanently red from all the blushing. She begged her way into his room, into his bed, against his wall, onto his couch… She begged her way into one fuck after another. She begged, begged, begged. And still, she hasn't stopped. It's become clear that she _can't _stop. She wonders when her stamina will finally run out, because her self-respect sure hasn't gotten the job done.

"_Mark_…"

She's curious as to where all her self-respect has gone, actually. Out the window, certainly. And her survival instincts? _How dare she call him by his first name?_ Gone.

"You close?" He whispers, his voice low and gravelly as he kisses her sweaty skin and nips at her earlobe. It sounds almost as rough as his beard feels while it scratches against the side of her neck.

"Y—Yes…" She squeezes her eyes shut, digging her nails into his back, urging him on.

He doesn't take the bait.

"How close?" He asks, now motionless inside her.

"Mark!" She groans aloud at his stalling, and his quiet laughter rumbles an amused reply. "Come on. Please."

"Say it again."

She almost smiles. _He's asking me to say his name. _She feels a smile curve up her lips at the idea, as if doing so would make this one-night-stand meaningful. "Mark."

His smirk flashes immediately. "No," he murmurs, bending down to brush his lips against hers, "the other one."

She tilts her head back so she can get a good look at him. She frowns slightly when she speaks this time, and the word comes out unsure. "Please?"

He grins immediately. "That's the one." He bends down to kiss her again, and just as his mouth is covering hers, his body begins thrusting into hers once more. Harder, faster, deeper—everything that she'd spent these last few minutes begging for. Everything that she's wanted, and craved, and everything that she thought she wouldn't be able to live without.

She would laugh if she could catch her breath—she's suddenly remembered why that one defining feature, that refusal to beg for _anything_, isn't so defining anymore.

"_Please…_"

It's because he likes it.

_**.**_

_**You hurt me,**_

_**But do I deserve this?**_

_**You make me so nervous**_

_**Calm me down,**_

_**Calm me down**_

_**.**_

"Let me get this straight…" She rises slowly to her feet, leaving the on-call room cot sadly unused beneath her. "We can't 'do this again' because you made a _promise _to your _best friend_ not to sleep with me?"

He shrugs like he can't control the situation. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell him to screw off. It isn't his business who you or I do or do not sleep with. And why were you even talking about me with Derek in the first place?"

"Lexie, you don't understand."

"Obviously."

Mark sighs, turning around to face the door. He closes his eyes, wishing he hadn't said anything. Wishing he'd just let her pull him back into bed like the first time. When he opens his eyes and turns around, he comes face-to-face with her. And he's nearly certain she's been reading his mind these last few seconds.

He stands frozen in place as she walks forward. Her eyes never leave his, and he senses something in them, something both familiar and yet strange. He can't quite place it…

…Until her hands lift to the hemline of her shirt, and tear it off. Until she kicks away her shoes, her socks, and steps out of her pants. Until she's standing nearly naked before him. Again.

"Lexie…" Her name exits his throat in a half-groan half-plea.

"What?"

"I… promised Derek. We… can't see each other any more."

She smiles, and he feels something inside him stir at the devilish way her lips curve upward. "Then we don't have to see each other, Mark." She steps closer, and he groans aloud when her hands slip beneath the waistband of his scrubs and close around his already hard penis.

"You know that 'seeing each other' wasn't exactly what he was objecting to, right?" He manages to grunt out as she strokes him.

"Yeah, I know." Her dark eyes find his. "But I think you're old enough now to make your own life decisions." She grins, watching his eyes narrow and taking pride in the fact that she's able to get under his skin like this. Taking pride in the fact that she has him right where she wants him. "Or are you going to stay under Derek's thumb for the rest of your life?" She grins when he glowers at her. "I'm a big girl, Mark, so I can make my own decisions. Can you?"

_**.**_

_**Wake you up**_

_**In the middle of the night to say**_

_**I will never walk away again**_

_**I'm never gonna leave this bed**_

_**.**_

"So…" He draws out the word.

Lexie smiles against his side; this isn't the first time this has happened. It isn't even the tenth. "So," she murmurs back, kissing the outline of his fifth and sixth ribs briefly.

"What are we going to do now?" He asks, the same thing he always asks.

"We're going to go to work," she replies, the same thing she always replies.

"And?"

"And I can meet you in the fourth-floor on-call room, if you like." He feels her mouth curve into a smile against his skin. "I plan on being very hungry during my lunch break, if—"

"—you know what I mean," he finishes for her.

She laughs, rolling onto her back and catching his eyes. "See, isn't this cute? You're finishing my sentences!"

He smirks, getting up to crawl on top of her.

"Mmm…" She sighs happily as his weight settles above her. He reaches behind, the fingers from one hand trailing sensually down from her knee to her ankle, and hooking that leg behind his back. She lifts the other to join its twin, and then flexes them both, drawing him close. "Morning," she whispers, looking up at him.

He grins, bending down to kiss her, long and slow and deep. "Morning," he returns when he pulls back.

She adjusts the grip of her legs around him, cinching them tighter. Her head turns to find the bedside clock. It's halfway turned the other way, from the many times one of them had tried to convince the other they had enough time for this. She can only see a five on the hour side.

She turns back to him, smiling at the many memories that have begun to accumulate over the past few weeks. "We either have one minute or sixty," she informs him, reaching up to drag her fingers across his rough and familiar cheeks. "Which would you prefer to work with today?"

_**.**_

_**So come here,**_

_**And never leave this place.**_

_**The perfection of your face**_

_**Slows me down**_

_**Slows me down**_

_**.**_

"I like it when you wear your hair down like this."

She smiles lazily, still only half-awake as she blinks her tired eyes open. "Hmm?" She mumbles into the pillow, one eye half-open.

"Your hair," he repeats. She hums happily when she feels his hand stroke her dark, pin-straight, and silky-smooth locks. "I like it when you let it down like this. It looks good."

"I have to keep it up at work," she murmurs, yawning, and turning her face more fully towards his. "Or else it gets in the way."

He frowns at her for a second, letting his hand trail from the crown of her head down her back, following the flow of her hair. Unlike it had been doing before, his hand doesn't resume its starting point at the top of her head. Too late, she realizes she should have just taken the compliment and shut up.

She clears her throat, searching for a way to rectify the situation. "I, uh, I can, though, if you like." She immediately frowns at the attempt. _Now that just sounds pathetic. _She coughs to try and hide her embarrassment. "I—I mean—"

"Maybe wear it down to dinner," he suggests.

She tries not to let her eyes go too wide, knowing she looks like a mix between a scared rabbit and a lost child when she does that. _Not attractive._ "D—Dinner?" She takes a breath, biting the inside of her lower lip. It's been a little over a month since they decided to keep having sex behind Derek's back, and they've gotten a lot closer since then… _But _dinner_?_ "With—_you_?"

Half of his mouth curves up in that characteristic McSteamy smirk. "Yeah, with me."

"I, um…" She takes another breath, trying to marshal her thoughts that are running around her head like so many unruly children. Finally, she just gives up, knowing it's a useless endeavor. She smiles, turns to look him in the eyes, and asks, "When would you like to go out?"

_**.**_

_**So fall down,**_

_**I need you to trust me.**_

_**Go easy, don't rush me.**_

_**Help me out**_

_**Why don't you help me out?**_

_**.**_

"Mark?"

She isn't sure he's breathing. _He _isn't even sure he's breathing.

"Mark, can hear me?"

He opens his mouth, finally taking a deep breath. She closes her eyes in relief. "You're… sure?" He forces out.

She nods, her head bobbing on top of her neck like a bobblehead. "Yeah," she whispers. "I—I ran a blood test earlier this morning, just to check. It was positive too."

"So you just found out?"

She nods again, but the gesture is a bit more controlled this time. "Yes." She takes a breath. "I—I came right to you. To tell you." She sucks in another breath, wishing her words didn't come out as a terrified whisper. "I'm pregnant. It's—yours."

"And what…" He sighs, lifting a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "What, exactly, do you expect me to say to that? What do you expect me to do about that, Lex?"

His words hit her like a hard punch to the gut. She gulps in air, but it doesn't make the pain go away. It doesn't stop him from speaking.

"What do you expect me to say to that, Lexie?" His tone is rising in anger now, his words more forceful. "What do you want me to do?"

"I—"

"Do you expect me to be overjoyed?" He wonders mockingly, his voice hard. "To drop down on one knee and propose? To—"

"No!" She interrupts desperately. "No, of course not! I don't expect any of that. I just…" She swallows, scared beyond belief now. Before now, she at least thought she'd have his support in whatever direction she decided to take this baby. But if he's against any involvement whatsoever… _What am I supposed to do?_

"You're… over ten years older than me," she whispers, suddenly realizing how pathetic this defense is. "I just, I… I guess I expected you to have a solution or something."

"I don't."

"No, I know that now, I just—"

"You're a big girl now, Lexie. I think you can make your own decisions." His voice is cold and faintly insulting as he interrupts her. It only takes her half a second to recognize those familiar words as her own. By that time, he's already reached for the door and turned the knob, poised to make his exit. "You don't need me to tell you what to do and you can't expect the adults to keep solving all your problems."

_**.**_

_**Wake you up**_

_**In the middle of the night to say**_

_**I will never walk away again**_

_**I'm never gonna leave this bed.**_

_**.**_

She almost slams her apartment's door shut in his face when she sees who's at the door. But, always one step ahead, his hand flashes out to catch the wooden frame, holding it place even as she tries with all her might to wrench it out of his grasp. It's petty and vindictive of her to want to do so, but it's all she has right now. Slamming things in his face, just like he slammed the door to her future shut with one _stupid_, unprotected fuck.

She wants to kill herself for the way her heart starts hammering just at the sight of him. _It wasn't just once, _the rapid beat reminds her. _It was so much more than once._

"What the hell are you doing here?" She snaps, trying to hold her heart's feelings back.

"I just want to talk to you."

_I just want to smack you in your face. _She bites the inside of her cheek to hold back the words, but already she's unsure of why she held her tongue in the first place. Or why she didn't just hit him the second she saw him. "You want to talk to me now, but you didn't want to talk to me two weeks ago?"

"Did you keep it?"

Her eyes narrow, her eyebrows draw together, and her mouth forms a hard line. Every feature of her face comes together to gang up on him. "What do you _think_?"

He sighs slowly, reaching out and resting his other hand against the doorframe. "Lexie, just answer the question."

Her voice is cold as the ice she imagines running through her veins when she speaks. "Yes, I kept it, Dr. Sloan."

He ignores her attempt at professionalism. He isn't here because they're professionals; they crossed that line long ago. She should know there's no going back. "Why?"

For the first time tonight, he watches her become Lexie again. _His _Lexie. Her eyes go wide momentarily, and her lips part without any idea of what to say… He closes his eyes for a moment, savoring it. Savoring _her. _He almost smiles. When he opens them, that cold lookalike has taken her place. He frowns, wondering briefly if that's how she felt when he forced her away half a month ago. "Because," she replies finally.

He nods sagely. "You thought long and hard about that deep, one-word answer, didn't you?"

Her upper lip curls at his mocking. "Shut up."

"Tell me the real reason and maybe I will."

"You have no right—"

"—no right to what?" He interrupts, taking a step forward. He could swear she trembled before him as she held her ground. "No right to know why the mother of my kid decided to keep our baby? No right to know why I'm going to be a dad?"

"You're going to be a _dad_," Lexie practically snarls the word, "because you, like millions of brainless men before you, were too horny to stop and think for _one_ _second_ about the consequences of your actions. You're going to be a _dad _because _we_ didn't use protection!"

"Glad to hear you're blaming both of us and not just me."

"Yes," Lexie growls, "I _am _blaming myself." Her eyes pierce his. "For being stupid enough to sleep with you in the first place."

He rolls his eyes. "Don't pretend like you didn't enjoy the sex. We both know there was a reason you kept coming back after that first time."

Lexie crosses her arms, digging the nails of one hand into her upper arm. She won't dare give him the satisfaction of correction him, of replying that she came back not only for the sex, but because she liked him. Because she thought they had something. She presses her nails in harder. No, he'll never know that.

It doesn't take more than five seconds of that strained silence for them to snap. She's glaring at him and he's smirking at her, and then all at once—barely without warning—they collide.

This certainly isn't the first time they've come together like this. It may not even be the first time since she became pregnant. But no matter what, this time is different, and they both know it. He isn't just a guy, she isn't just a girl, and this isn't just another one of their meaningless fucks.

"Lexie," he gasps half a minute later, managing to tear his lips from hers as they stumble towards the bedroom. "We have to talk—"

She silences him with another bruising kiss. "No." Her eyes are lit up, fiery and dangerous, when the come into contact with his. "_No_," she repeats, nipping sharply on his lower lip. "No talking. Anything but talking."

_**.**_

_**So you say, 'Go, it isn't working.'**_

_**And I say, 'No, it isn't perfect.'**_

_**So I'll stay instead**_

_**I'm never gonna leave this bed.**_

_**.**_

She wants it fast and hard and angry. He knows that. He can tell. _Hell, _anyone could tell.

Her nails scratch him just _a bit _too hard, her teeth bite into his flesh just _a bit _too deep… But he is intent, just this once, on denying her. He takes a heavy breath before depositing her softly on the bed. _Just this once._

He watches her lips twitch down in a frown at his gentle movements. He can tell she's about to call him out on it, but before she can, he crawls atop her, and presses their wanting, aching bodies together.

She moans aloud at the contact, already writhing beneath him even though they're both still fully clothed. _It's been two weeks. _He smiles into the kiss at the thought as one of his hands cups the back of her head while another slips up beneath her shirt. _It's been a long time._ She whimpers softly as his fingers begin plucking and thumbing her nipples, stimulating them into stiff peaks that poke through her old t-shirt.

"I've missed you," he whispers when their lips break. She nods, agreeing, too dazed to say anything else. He leans back, removing his jacket and shirt before bending back over her and peeling her thin t-shirt off her body.

He closes his eyes for a moment once she's bare beneath him. As he does so, she savors the look on his face—the gentle curve of the smile—that shows that he meant his words. And with that, the fight leaves her. She isn't angry anymore. She isn't hurt. She knows she should be, after what he did to her, but she can't find the strength within her to resist him any longer.

_He'll be the death of me, _she thinks, and smiles. Not only because it's true, but because he's looking down at her now, and from the look in his eyes… She knows he's thinking the same thing.

"C'mere," he murmurs softly, sliding his hands beneath her back and pulling her up to him. His lips fall to hers, and their kiss is gentle and quiet this time. When teeth are added into the equation, they aren't used as weapons; they're simply something to explore as their tongues delve into one another's mouths.

When they eventually have to break apart for air, both Mark and Lexie use the opportunity to rid themselves of their remaining clothing. Her, her pajama shorts and panties; him, his jeans and boxers. They smile almost nervously at each other as the lie bare before one another, like it's their first time together.

After a few seconds, he chuckles quietly, finally breaking the silence. Her smile widens slightly in response. "You are so beautiful," he whispers, staring at her.

She blushes, looking away. When her eyes finally return to his, she's surprised to see that he wasn't staring—or commenting—about her face. Nor her engorged breasts or soaked vagina. She feels her heart hammer in her chest when she realizes what body part he was speaking of and where his eyes were glued: her stomach.

"Mark…" She swallows the lump rising in her throat. "Mark—"

He places a finger to his lips. "Shh," he murmurs, kissing them softly. He holds her gaze, slowly lowering himself down to her midsection. His eyes fall to her smooth stomach when he reaches that point. His lips follow not a second later, kissing and licking all over her flat tummy.

Not long after, his lips descend even lower, and his tongue delves even deeper. For some time after that, Lexie Grey forgets that she's carrying this man, Mark Sloan's, baby. She forgets that she's pregnant at all. She forgets about everything, in fact, except the way he used to feel inside her and the pleasure he used to bring her.

It doesn't take long for him to remind her, or for them to create new memories together.

.

_**Take it, take it all**_

_**Take all that I have**_

_**I'd give it all away just to get you back.**_

_**.**_

"Why were you so gentle with me?" She wonders softly afterwards. Her head is resting partly on his shoulder and partly on the pillows beside it, like she can't decide how intimate she wants the afterglow to be. "I wasn't exactly…_inviting_ that sort of thing, at the start."

He sighs slowly, leaning down to kiss her dark hair. He shuts his eyes, and decides that telling the truth is worth losing her, if that's what this comes to. "Because I love you," he whispers. "And because you deserve to always be treated gently, always, but especially… especially now." She shifts against him at these words—closer, he realizes with relief—and sniffs quietly. It takes him a few moments, but eventually, it dawns on him that she might be crying.

He turns his head, leaning to the side so he can look her in the eyes. And there—clear as day—he can see the tears in her eyes and trailing down her face. He swallows, and he had to put more force than he expected behind the gesture to move the lump in his throat down and away so he could speak. "Lex?" The word comes out a shattered whisper, but he finds that he can't exactly bring himself to be embarrassed at a time like this.

She closes her eyes, shaking her head to ward off his interruption. A few more tears fall from her eyelashes. He traces their journey down her face, and reaches out to catch them when they fall across her lips. She's trembling beneath his fingertips.

"You want to know the real reason I kept it?" She wonders.

He stares at her, waiting for an answer. His thumb is frozen against her rosy upper lip.

"Because I…" She draws a breath, boldly locking in on his eyes. "I hoped it might bring you back to me."

The lump rises in his throat again, but he ignores it. "Lexie…"

"Because I thought, you know, maybe you'd come to your senses. You'd see that we worked well together. Maybe we couldn't exactly raise a kid, but we could…be in each other's lives." She takes a breath. "And because I was in love with you, too," she adds, quietly, like a less-important afterthought. "Of course I was." His body freezes up at these words, not able to believe that she'd feel the same way. "I—I _am _in love with you," she continues next, shattering his assumptions all over again. "And I thought…" She shrugs weakly, and the tears take hold of her for a few moments more. "I thought, what's to lose, you know? I keep the kid, and maybe you want it and maybe you don't… Maybe I would be ready and maybe I wouldn't… I could just give it away, you know? If neither of us was ready, I could just give it away. It wouldn't be that hard, people are always looking for kids." She half-smiles. "And ours would be pretty damn cute, right?" She shakes her head, looking down at the sheets now. "I don't know," she whispers, running a hand through her hair. "I just… I guess I hoped that if I kept myself suspended like this, I would keep what we _were_ suspended, too. I hoped we would be able to…to go back."

"We're able to continue."

Her head snaps up. "What?" She breathes, shocked.

"Yeah," he nods. "We can't exactly go back to what we were before, but we—we _can_ continue like this, can't we?" He moves towards her. "Have the baby," he whispers, pleading. "Have it, and I… I promise, I'll try my best. I'll—I'll be anything you need me to be. If you need money or someone to watch it or—or time off or away—"

"Mark—" She nearly chokes on his name as it exits her throat. "Mark, you—"

He shakes his head. "Don't tell me not to do something. I _have _to do something. It's my kid, I just can't leave—It's _our _kid," he corrects, finding her eyes. He reaches out, wiping a few more of her tears away. "And I can't leave you. Especially now."

She takes a deep breath, digesting this. "M—money or… or a sitter…" She trails off, swallowing roughly as she looks over at him. He's nodding emphatically, ready to take any role she'll give him, even if it's just a mysterious benefactor. She bites her lip, hoping to hold back the tears that seem to threaten every other minute tonight. "You… You mean you don't want to be the dad?" She whispers, more heartbroken than she'd ever care to admit.

Mark Sloan can't breathe for a few seconds. He blinks, hard and forceful, as if doing so will make what she just said sound more normal. Eventually, he regains control of himself enough to open his mouth to speak. "You…" He pauses, staring into her eyes, to make sure he gets this right. "You mean you _want _me to be the… dad?"

"Well, I…" Lexie licks her lips, suddenly self-conscious of her words and unsure of herself. "I thought that's what you were getting at. You said, 'Have the baby.' I didn't…" She closes her eyes, suddenly realizing how naïve she'd been. _This isn't a fairy tale. He is no Prince Charming. _"I didn't realize…" Her cheeks pink, embarrassed. "I didn't realize you meant, 'Have it alone.'"

"I didn't."

Lexie struggles to breathe, to think, to function normally as her life continues to change drastically from one second to the next. "You…" She can't even manage to repeat his words, she's that shocked.

"I…" He pauses, and even though he looks down to avoid her eye, she can see a smile bloom across his face. She could swear she her heart stops at the sight of it. "I would love to be the dad," he murmurs. His eyes slowly lift to meet hers. "I just never… I never thought you would _want _me to be the dad."

She takes a minute to digest this, but once the minute's passed, she realizes she still doesn't understand what he's talking about. _Why _wouldn't _she want him as the dad? He already _is _the dad! How can he be anything else?_ "Why not?" She wonders aloud.

He stares at her as if waiting for a very obvious realization to dawn. When it doesn't, he replies, in a very simple and off-hand manner that later haunts her, "Because I'm me. Mark Sloan." He smirks, but instead of holding its usual amusement, the gesture seems infinitely worn and tired. And she realizes, a second later, that that's because she's seeing the real him, the one he hides from everyone else. It makes his next sentence sound so much more saddened, so much more pain-filled. "Who would ever want a kid with me?"

Even his closing shrug seems vulnerable, and her heart nearly breaks at the sight. Instead of falling apart, though, she takes a deep breath. She reaches out, framing his face between her hands, and pulls him close.

"I would," she whispers, enunciating each word clearly so he grasps their full meaning. "I _do_."

And then she leans forward, and joins his stunned lips to hers.

_**.**_

_**Wake you up**_

_**In the middle of the night to say**_

_**I will never walk away again**_

_**I'm never gonna leave this bed.**_

_**.**_

Lexie wakes with a quiet sigh to a much louder cry. "I have to feed him," she mumbles in weary explanation. She throws back the covers, attempting to get up, but Mark signals with her to stay put.

"I'll get him," he murmurs, struggling to his feet. Too tired to argue, Lexie lies back against her pillows for a moment. In less than a minute, he reappears with their newborn cradled in his arms, red-faced and screaming.

"Oh, baby boy," Lexie murmurs, holding out her hands to take him. "It's okay, honey. Mommy's right here, Matthew. Mommy and Daddy are right here."

Mark settles back into bed beside her with a tired smile. "Hey, little guy," he whispers, rubbing his son's back gently. "Everything's okay, bud."

"I have to feed him," Lexie says again, lifting her shirt up. Mark nods, leaning over to kiss her shoulder softly as she nurses their son. He rubs her back softly, his fingers running all over her skin, smoothing and soothing the knots beneath the surface. When she finishes feeding him, Mark takes their son from her without a word, carrying him back to his crib in the other room as she pulls her shirt back down and settles into bed again. She presses her body against his when he returns, snuggling close to him beneath the covers.

He smiles at the warm feel of her, turning his head to kiss the top of hers lightly. "How are you doing, Lex?" He asks softly.

"Tired," she whispers in reply. She yawns a moment later, her body shuddering with the gesture. Her eyes are already falling shut again. "I'm really tired."

"But you're…" He pauses, trailing off. His uncertain tone forces her eyes open. She blinks slowly at him, yawning again.

"I'm what?" She murmurs, waiting for an answer.

"You're…" He pauses, unsure. "Happy?" He wonders softly.

Lexie frowns momentarily, pushing herself up in bed. She sits up, scooting closer to him. "Of course I am," she whispers. "I've… I've just been tired recently, Mark." She reaches out, cupping his cheek for a moment before running her hand through his hair. "I'm just tired," she assures him, looking into his eyes, "that's all. But I'm—I'm so, so happy to be with you, to be raising our son together."

"You don't have any regrets, then?" He presses.

She tilts her head to the side, silently telling him not to go there. "Mark…" There's a reprimand clear in her voice, but ignores it.

"Because…" He swallows, and it's now that she realizes just how nervous he is. She stares at him, her eyebrows drawing down in confusion. _Is he sweating?_

"Mark?" She wonders aloud. "Are you okay? What is it?"

"Will you marry me?" He blurts.

Her eyes go wide and her mouth drops open, and he curses himself, internally and aloud.

"_Shit_," he mutters angrily, squeezing his eyes shut. "I had this whole… _Damn it._" He lifts a hand to his forehead, rubbing his face tiredly. His eyes meet hers guiltily when he finally opens them a few seconds later. "I had a whole plan," he tells her sadly. "I was going to ease you into it, hinting here and there and then—I have a ring," he adds, hopefully, as if he thought she'd say no simply because he _didn't _have a ring. "I do." His voice is softer now. "I have a ring. And I had a plan. It just—It just came out and—"

She places her hand over his mouth. She stares at him, long and hard, letting her eyes take all of him in. His guarded, yet hopeful eyes, the tired and worried lines etched into his handsome face, the pessimistic downturn of his lips… Her own eyes fill with tears at the sight of him, and it isn't due to sadness or fatigue or heartbreak.

"Yes," she whispers, finally blinking and letting the suspended tears fall. "Yes, I'll marry you, plan or no plan. Of course."

"We've never really had a plan, I suppose," he mumbles against her hand.

She drops it at the sound of his voice, and they stare at each other for a long minute in silence. He's the first to break it.

"I love you."

She can't help but laugh. All the tiredness has gone now; what's left is giddiness and near hysterical happiness. "I love you too!" She nearly shouts the words, which only causes her to laugh more.

He grins, bending forward to kiss her. Barely half a minute passes before she's tugging his body closer and he's obliging, rolling on top of her. She moans happily when she feels him harden against her through his boxers, and breaks their kiss to gasp loudly when one of his hands cups the smoldering heat in between her thighs.

"Condom," she gasps, one hand leaving his neck to fumble with the bedside drawer.

He smirks, taking her hand in his and threading their fingers together tightly before leaning down to kiss her deeply again. "Don't worry," he murmurs against her lips as he pulls back. "As much as I love our son, I'm not too keen on making that mistake again right out of the gate."

Lexie arches her eyebrows. "Mistake?" She repeats flatly, looking up at him.

Mark sighs immediately, hanging his head in shame. She smiles when his hair brushes against her breasts. "You know what I meant," he mumbles apologetically.

She smiles again, laughing quietly, and pulls his head up to hers for a kiss. "I know," she assures him. "Don't beat yourself up, honey, I was just making fun of you."

He looks into her eyes, pecking her lips softly. "Condom?"

She nods, smiling happily and lying back in bed as he leans back on his knees and reaches around to his side of the bed. She reaches down, pulling off her shorts and panties before discarding her shirt over the side of the bed. When she rolls back to where she was, her breath catches at the ring in her fiancé's hand. And his eyes go wide at her complete nudity.

"Why're you naked already?" He blurts, unable to keep his eyes from roaming over her familiar body.

"Why do you have a ring right now?" She replies, reaching over and snatching her shirt and shorts off the floor. She pulls them on quickly; her panties are too far away to add to the ensemble, but at least she's semi-presentable now.

He frowns immediately at her clothing. "Why aren't you naked anymore?"

"First you complain _about _my nakedness, and now you complain about my lack of nakedness?" Lexie chuckles. "Pick a lane, love." She frowns a moment later, straightening her shirt critically. "If you're proposing," she explains, looking back up at him "you can't do it with me naked. You just can't."

His forehead creases, and he glances down at the ring, as if it was the problem. "Why not?"

"Because," Lexie replies, sitting up to face him so they're on the same level. "When we announce it, people are going to ask about this moment. And we can't say—"

"—that I proposed to my fiancée while she was lying naked beneath me in bed?"

"_Mark._"

"What?" He replies, a smirk spreading over his face. "I don't see what's wrong with that."

"There's nothing _wrong _with it," Lexie replies, unable to hold back a grin, "it's just that I would like to have _one_ story that we can tell our friends that _doesn't _involve us being naked and about to do it."

He grins. "But those are the best stories."

"They're the _only _stories."

He laughs, "True." He sobers a minute later, and she grows self-conscious under his watchful gaze.

"Yes?"

He gives her a small smile, but it's a few seconds more before he speaks. "Lexie," he begins finally.

She smiles, staring back at him as she realizes what's happening. "Yes?" She wonders softly.

"I know we've…" He takes a breath, and the beginnings of his characteristic smirk flicker at the edges of his mouth. "I know we've gone through a lot of this backwards. Most couples get to know each other, then date for a while before they sleep together. Then they move in together, and after a year or two, maybe they'll talk about getting engaged… And if the answer's yes, then comes the wedding, and a few years later, the house and the kids…" He takes her hand, squeezing it. "But we aren't like most couples, Lexie." He smiles warmly, and she grins back. "When we had sex, it was when we barely even knew each other. And when we made Matthew, we'd only gone out to dinner once, if that…" He swallows, and she stills before him as he grows serious. "And then I… I did something I will always regret."

"Mark," she whispers, clutching his hand. _It's not necessary, _she wants to say. _You're here now._

But he shakes off her assurances.

"I left you," he murmurs, finding her worried eyes with his sorrowful, repentant ones. "I left you, alone, for weeks. I left you with nothing and no one and I… I will always feel so horribly guilty for that."

"You shouldn't," she can't help but whisper, "because you came back to me after."

He gives her the smallest smile, squeezing her hand again. "That I did." He closes his eyes briefly. "More importantly, you _let me _come back. Even after what I'd done to you, even after how horribly I treated you, you let me back into your life." He takes a breath, looking her square in the eyes. "And you told me it was because you loved me." She nods. "So I would like to know," he murmurs, staring intently into her eyes, "if you love me enough still…" He offers the ring to her, relinquishing it with trembling hands to her inspection. "Will you be my wife?"

_**.**_

_**So you say, 'Go, it isn't working.'**_

_**And I say, 'No, it isn't perfect.'**_

_**So I'll stay instead**_

_**I'm never gonna leave this bed.**_

_**.**_

"You happy?" He whispers, his voice hoarse and unsure.

"Yes," she whispers. She reaches over to squeeze his knee, looking him in the eye with a bright smile. "I've never been happier," she confides softly.

He feels her smile's twin spread slowly, cautiously over his own lips. "Yeah?"

She nods in encouragement. "Yeah," she affirms, leaning over to kiss him.

He sighs in relief against her lips, his hands reaching over to tangle in her hair and draw her closer. He can feel her grin into the kiss, and he deepens it in response, showing her just how important her happiness is to him, how important this moment is to him.

They're interrupted by a toddler's shout from down the hall. "Mom-my!"

Lexie sighs with a smile, pulling back and leaning her forehead against her husband's. "Duty calls," she whispers, getting to her feet.

He smiles, standing up as well and following behind her. She makes it as far to the bathroom door before turning around and pressing herself against him again. His quiet laughter sends loving rumbles through their lips.

She smiles again when they part, looking up to meet his eye. "You're happy too?" She wonders softly.

Mark smiles back, his hands drifting from her hips to her back, tugging her close. "You know I am, sweetheart."

She can't resist from kissing him again, a bit more forceful this time. "I love you," she whispers.

"I love you, too."

She smiles, stepping back. His hands fall from her body, but she catches them before they return to his sides. Slowly, she takes his right in her two, lifting it to her stomach. She presses it there, and they both close their eyes for a moment, imagining the tiny being growing within and relishing the moments they didn't quite have before with Matthew.

Mark steps forward, lifting his other hand to caress her stomach as well. "I'll be here this time," he tells her softly, "from start to finish, I'll be here. I promise you I won't miss a moment."

Lexie beams, looking up at him. She lifts his left hand from her belly, pressing it to her face. "I know you won't," she murmurs, kissing the gold band on his ring finger. Her eyes lift to meet his. "I know _you_."

_**.**_

_**Take it, take it all,**_

_**Take all that I have.**_

_**Take it,**_

_**Take it all,**_

_**Take all that I have.**_

_**.**_

_Reviews are always welcome! :)_


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